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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121045">A dead wrecker and two scientists walk into a bar</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/4ce/pseuds/4ce'>4ce</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>It’s Rotorstorm stuff’s bound to be angsty, Violence, abuse mention, gunshot mention, hoo boy, more tags will be added, oof there it is</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:34:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,126</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/4ce/pseuds/4ce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This wasn’t exactly how Rotorstorm imagined the afterlife to be like</p><p>Brainstorm not-so-accidentally revives a dead bot in the hopes of impressing Perceptor. Things are very confusing for a bit. I’m not sure how angsty this fic is going to get yet so there’ll be warnings in the notes in addition to added tags.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay so this was one of those “what if” scenarios that I just ran with.  I don’t know exactly how this is going to go, but it’s here now. Rotorstorm’s panicking at the end and it shows. There are also mentions of a gunshot to the head.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The afterspark wasn’t like how he’d envisioned to be.</p><p>He’d heard his fair share of stories, speculations from others about what could be on the other side. Some were hellbent on the fact that such a thing didn’t exist. When you died you, well, died and that was it. There wouldn’t even be a void, there’d be <em>nothing</em>.</p><p>Others chose to believe that dying was merely a continuation of the current life but in another form, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. Something about re-birth.</p><p>A dying bot once grabbed his arm, asking him what he thought happened after a Cybertronian’s spark faded. It was one of the few times during his lifetime he couldn’t find the words.</p><p>Come to think of it, he wasn’t even sure what he’d imagined in the first place. This however, definitely wasn’t it.</p><p> </p><p>His vision was blurred, there was a blue tinge on everything for some reason. His field of vision was... cracked. He realized that was his visor, or his optics. He couldn’t tell.</p><p>Things were way too hazy, and his head felt like it was slowly being pulled apart. He grimaced.</p><p>“..-uccess!” The muffled sound of dialogue jolted him back to what he could now discern as the vague outlines of a laboratory. He assumed so based off the vaguely science-y looking equipment strewn about.</p><p>“..Where-“ Rotorstorm began, wincing at the fact that it felt like his face had been exploded into a million pieces and then shoddily rearranged back again.</p><p>“To answer your question, you’re in my lab aboard the Lost Light, and yes, I just pulled you back from the dead.” The blurry shapes came together to form a bright turquoise mech with a yellow faceplate that was currently tinkering away on a device.</p><p>“Hol’ up, did you-“ He reset his vocaliser, ignoring the dull pain that was spreading through his face. “Did you just say dead?”</p><p>“Hmm, yeah. Sorry about that, must be pretty jarring I assume.” The scientist chuckled. “Name’s Brainstorm, and you are?”.</p><p>Rotorstorm had to think for a second. The memories seemed way more hazy than he’d like them to be. “Rotorst-“</p><p>“Wait! Don’t tell me, you’re Rotorstorm right? Ex-wrecker and all that?” Brainstorm interrupted him as he was speaking. He sounded like he already knew the answer.</p><p>“Well yeah, that’s my name. Want an autograph or something?” Rotorstorm rose an optical ridge at the interruption. “...what do you mean by ex-wrecker?? Last time I checked I’m pretty sure I was a member.” He crossed his arms. He hated feeling this confused.</p><p>“Y’know how I said ‘dead’ right?” Brainstorm began.</p><p>“Yyeah?” Rotorstorm did not like where this was going.</p><p>Primus, his head hurt.</p><p>“Again, nothing to be alarmed about” The scientist continued “But you, my friend, just became the fourth bot in history to be brought back from the dead! Or was it fifth? I’m not entirely sure about the number, but still!”</p><p>Rotorstorm blinked. There was a pause.</p><p>No, that couldn’t be. He gave a dry laugh. “Oh, I see, very funny. You almost had me there, I admit that.”</p><p>“Nonono, I mean it! Hell, I could prove it but I feel like it’ll be obvious pretty soon. Dont worry, I’ve called Ratchet, and as long as you don’t leave that square you won’t, uh, double-die.” Brainstorm enthusiastically gestured to a large square drawn around him with what looked to be a red crayon.</p><p>What..?” It was only then Rotorstorm stopped and seriously thought about this. He looked at his arms, which were... stained with energon.</p><p>He furrowed his optical ridges, before winching at the sudden pang of pain the action brought. Glimpses of a moment he’d rather forget flashed through his mind.</p><p>The laughter, and then the gunshot.</p><p>No, it couldn’t be. Surely he couldn’t have-</p><p>He slowly lifted a hand to his forehead where the pain seemed to be concentrated only to find-</p><p>He-</p><p>There was a-</p><p>The memories came flooding back. He suddenly remembered everything he did not want to.</p><p>“Oh hey! Please don’t be alarmed, I just need to do some final calibrations and things should be a-okay!” Brainstorm said something else, but Rotorstorm didn’t register that.</p><p> </p><p>He was dead.</p><p> </p><p>He was dead. As in no more.</p><p> </p><p>That shot should have killed him. It did.</p><p> </p><p>And yet, here he was.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t remember backing off, but winced at the sensation of a wall.</p><p> </p><p>The scientist was shouting something.</p><p> </p><p>The world turned blurry again as a red and white blur came rushing into the room.</p><p> </p><p>He was <em>dead</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Someone grabbed a hold of his arm, speaking in a concerned yet firm voice.</p><p> </p><p>He swatted them away.</p><p> </p><p>Someone cursed.</p><p> </p><p>It might have been the same bot.</p><p> </p><p>The last thing he remembered was Ratchet’s face hovering over him.</p><p> </p><p>Then, there was darkness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rotorstorm is still very confused.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay so he’s a bit out of it at the moment. I don’t know if any warnings apply at the moment but he’s currently in the med-bay. Something weird happened to the spaces between the lines, it’s supposed to be normally spaces after the word “wait”</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Shapes</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>There</em> <em>were</em> <em>too</em> <em>many</em> <em>shapes</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>They</em> <em>swirled</em> <em>around</em> <em>him</em>, <em>blinding</em> <em>him</em> <em>with</em> <em>a</em> <em>deafening</em> <em>cacophony</em> <em>of</em> <em>emotions</em>, <em>splintering</em> <em>him</em> <em>into</em> <em>millions</em> <em>of</em> <em>smaller</em> <em>fragments</em>. <em>The</em> <em>past</em> <em>and</em> <em>future</em> <em>seemed</em> <em>to</em> <em>merge</em> <em>into</em> <em>an</em> <em>all</em>-<em>consuming</em> <em>tidal</em> <em>wave</em> <em>of</em> <em>memories</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>Memories</em>, <em>way</em> <em>too</em> <em>many</em> <em>of</em> <em>them</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>A</em> <em>face</em>, <em>no</em>, <em>a</em> <em>crowd</em> <em>of</em> <em>bots</em>, <em>all</em> <em>watching</em> <em>as</em> <em>the</em> <em>medal</em> <em>was</em> <em>handed</em> <em>to</em> <em>him</em>. <em>A</em> <em>cheer</em> <em>rang</em> <em>out</em>, <em>louder</em> <em>than</em> <em>the</em> <em>others</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>Battles</em>, <em>countless</em> <em>images</em> <em>of</em> <em>cities</em> <em>and</em> <em>bots</em> <em>burning</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>A</em> <em>landscape</em> <em>stretched</em> <em>in</em> <em>front</em> <em>of</em> <em>him</em>. <em>Grey</em>. <em>No</em>, <em>light</em> <em>grey</em>. <em>Even</em> <em>the</em> <em>sky</em> <em>itself</em>. <em>Square</em> <em>formations</em> <em>appeared</em> <em>and</em> <em>changed</em> <em>on</em> <em>the</em> <em>horizon.</em></p><p> </p><p><em>A</em> <em>bright</em> <em>light</em> <em>appeared</em>, <em>shining</em> <em>into</em> <em>his</em> <em>optic</em>. <em>It</em> <em>vanished</em> <em>after</em> <em>what</em> <em>felt</em> <em>like</em> <em>a</em> <em>few</em> <em>seconds</em>. <em>He</em> <em>barely</em> <em>had</em> <em>time</em> <em>to</em> <em>react</em>. <em>He</em> <em>heard</em> <em>voices</em>, <em>yet</em> <em>it</em> <em>sounded</em> <em>muffled</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>Was</em> <em>he-?</em></p><p> </p><p><em>No</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>It</em> <em>couldn’t</em> <em>be</em></p><p> </p><p><em>He’d</em>-</p><p> </p><p>“Ratchet, he’s fading! ...what do I do?!”</p><p> </p><p><em>Grey</em>. <em>The</em> <em>walls</em> <em>of</em> <em>the med-bay</em> <em>was</em> <em>a</em> <em>monotone</em>, <em>light</em> <em>grey</em>. <em>The</em> <em>ceiling</em> <em>and</em> <em>walls</em> <em>had</em> <em>a</em> <em>similar</em> <em>colour</em>, <em>although</em> <em>the</em> <em>ceiling</em> <em>was</em> <em>a</em> <em>tone</em> <em>darker</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>Someone</em> <em>put</em> <em>a</em> <em>hand</em> <em>on</em> <em>the</em> <em>shapes</em> <em>he</em> <em>assumed</em> <em>was</em> <em>his</em> <em>forearm</em>. <em>He</em> <em>wanted</em> <em>to</em> <em>swat</em> <em>it</em> <em>away</em> <em>but</em> <em>couldn’t</em> <em>move</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, hang in there, okay??” <em>Someone</em> <em>spoke</em>. <em>They</em> <em>sounded</em> <em>frustrated</em>. <em>He</em> <em>didn’t</em> <em>know</em> <em>why</em>. <em>Did</em> <em>he</em> <em>do</em> <em>something</em>? <em>He</em> <em>must</em> <em>have</em>. <em>He</em> <em>always</em> <em>did</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>The</em> <em>room</em> <em>shimmered</em> <em>and</em> <em>twisted</em>. <em>He</em> <em>was</em> <em>floating</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>And</em> <em>yet</em>, <em>the</em> <em>shapes</em> <em>slowly</em> <em>became</em> <em>clearer</em>. <em>Red</em> <em>and</em> <em>white</em>. <em>Who-?</em></p><p> </p><p>“Primus dang it kid!” <em>The</em> <em>voice</em> <em>belonged</em> <em>to</em> <em>Ratchet</em>. <em>He’d</em> <em>met</em> <em>the</em> <em>bot</em> <em>a</em> <em>few</em> <em>times</em> <em>in</em> <em>the</em> <em>past</em>, <em>and</em> <em>heard</em> <em>tons</em> <em>of</em> <em>stories</em> <em>about</em> <em>him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Wait.</p><p> </p><p>“So, Brainstorm really did it, huh” The second voice spoke up again. Another white and red blur, vaguely in the shape of bot.</p><p>“Do not mistake me, if I were religious I’d say this was a miracle, but I’m going to strangle him.” Ratchet hissed.</p><p>He blinked. What-</p><p>“Shh! Hey, can you hear me?” The other bot approached. He must have made a face, he assumed.</p><p>He tried to say something. Anything. Who were these people, well, except for Ratchet. Why was he here? Why were the interiors of med-bays always so bland? Why did it feel like he just got stomped on by Unicron himself?</p><p>It came out as gibberish. He sighed.</p><p>“Take it easy, your head’s still healing.” The medic explained. The shapes were clearer now.</p><p>So it happened. The realisation hit him, as he found himself on a medical berth. Everything, the mission, the joke, the-</p><p>Oh no.</p><p>“Oh <em>no</em>...” His voice frizzled into static at the end. His limbs felt way too heavy. “<em>No</em> <em>no</em> <em>no</em>-“</p><p>“It’s okay, you’re safe.” The bot put a hand on his forearm again. He must have made a facial expression as said bot withdrew it the moment after. “My name is First Aid. You’re currently aboard the spaceship the Lost Light.” First Aid introduced himself. The voice snapped him out of the panic of only for a moment.</p><p>“H-How-?” Dang it, he was back to the stuttering. This was truly pathetic.</p><p>“Don’t worry about that for now, the most important thing is that you’re alive.” First Aid said.</p><p>Alive. Right. He found himself wondering if his teammates were too.</p><p><em>No</em>. He shouldn’t dwell on that. Dwelling on things never did anyone any good, ever. He knew that. He’d done so way too often.</p><p>“I-“ He wanted to say it. I’m a failure. I don’t deserve this. I let them down. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. “...I don’t understand-?”</p><p>“I can imagine.” First Aid furrowed his optical ridges, either in sympathy or pity. He didn’t know which one he dreaded the most. “You’re Rotorstorm I assume?”</p><p>“Lemme guess, it’s because of the rotor blades? I’ve heard that one before.” Rotorstorm deadpanned.</p><p>“Actually, I read about you from the reports.” First Aid corrected. “Although now that you mention it-“</p><p>“Yep, that’s me” Rotorstorm sighed. “So... What is this place?” He decided to change the subject. He was also really curious. First Brainstorm had said it and now First Aid.</p><p>“Oh, the Lost Light? Cool spaceship, long story” First Aid shrugged. “We’re, uh, on a quest. You see, there’s this mythical group called the knights of Cybertron, and we’re sort of on our way to find them.” He continued. “With the more-than-occasional sidestops along the way.” He also added after some thinking.</p><p>“You’re chasing after a fairy tale?” Rotorstorm rose an optical ridge and then winched.</p><p>“Careful-“ First Aid said. ”And maybe. Then again, we all need something to do now that the war is over” He chuckled.</p><p>“The war’s- <b>what?</b>?” Rotorstorm exclaimed. Of course. Who knew how long he’d been gone for. Why the hell not.</p><p>A weird, sinking feeling settled in his tanks. He knew he should be relieved, and he was obviously, at the same time he couldn’t help but feel... hopeless in a sense. How much had changed?</p><p>“Oh, right” First Aid sounded apologetic. “Yeah, it ended some years ago. There’s peace, mostly. Megatron’s actually a co-captain on the ship now.”. The bot sounded way too jolly about this.</p><p>“<em>Megatron</em>?!” Rotorstorm almost shouted. “No offense, but is this some kinda opposite universe or something? <em>The</em> Megatron?? The same guy who slaughtered billions of people??”</p><p>“I know, if I’m going to be honest I can’t really believe it either” First Aid sighed as he organised some medical tools back into a drawer. “As much as I hate to say it, he seems to be serious about changing his ways. I mean he hasn’t done anything so far.”</p><p>“So <em>far</em>??” Rotorstorm laughed. It came out drier than he’d like to. “Man, this is <em>great</em>. One moment we’re trying to kill Overlord, and the next thing I know I’m trapped in this bizarre reality of <em>absolute</em> <em>lunatics</em>!”</p><p>“It’s a lot to take in, you’re definitely not the first to react that way, and I doubt you’ll be the last.” First Aid finished the organising.</p><p>“That’s an understatement” Rotorstorm sunk back on the medical berth, feeling oddly tired. A dull pain seemed to radiate out from his very processor, piercing into his optics.</p><p>“I’ll be over there by the computers, just call me if there is something.” First Aid pointed to somewhere in the distance. Rotorstorm didn’t have the energy to look that way but managed to say a vague affirmative as First Aid walked away.</p><p>Rotorstorm saw the bot disappear out of the corner of his optic. This was unbelievable. He offline his optics, as if that would somehow make everything, well, normal again. Or at least as it was, back when things were less complicated. A part of him wanted to believe that this was some kind of elaborate prank. Maybe it was one of those simulations?</p><p>Then again, it seemed way too real.</p><p>He felt himself slowly drift into recharge, his last thought one of dread towards the nightmares it would bring.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rotorstorm and Ratchet have a talk. Ratchet also tells Rotorstorm to talk to Rung</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay so there’s a flashback sequence at the beginning, and Rotorstorm throws up at some point. Ratchet brings up Rung and Rotorstorm feels like he should stop being at a loss for words so much</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pathetic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>The</em> <em>word</em> <em>repeated</em> <em>in</em> <em>his</em> <em>processor</em>, <em>seeping</em> <em>into</em> <em>his</em> <em>very</em> <em>being</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>He</em> <em>knew</em> <em>it</em> <em>was</em> <em>true</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>He</em> <em>was</em> <em>truly</em> <em>patethic</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>He’d</em> <em>given</em> <em>up</em> <em>trying</em> <em>to</em> <em>block</em> <em>the</em> <em>punches</em>. <em>Occasionally</em> <em>there’d</em> <em>be</em> <em>a</em> <em>kick</em> <em>too</em>, <em>and</em> <em>at</em> <em>some</em> <em>point</em> <em>he</em> <em>found</em> <em>himself</em> <em>lying</em> <em>on</em> <em>the</em> <em>floor</em>, <em>his</em> <em>vision</em> <em>flickering</em> <em>in</em> <em>and</em> <em>out</em> <em>between</em> <em>the</em> <em>shattered</em> <em>remains</em> <em>of</em> <em>his</em> <em>visor.</em> <em>He</em> <em>remembered</em> <em>the</em> pool <em>of</em> <em>energon</em> <em>around</em> <em>him</em> <em>steadily</em> <em>growing</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>He</em> <em>should</em> <em>have</em> <em>known</em> <em>better</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>He</em> <em>couldn’t</em> <em>even</em> <em>find</em> <em>the</em> <em>strength</em> <em>to</em> <em>say</em> <em>anything</em> <em>as</em> <em>he</em> <em>gazed</em> <em>up</em> <em>at</em> <em>the</em> <em>source</em> <em>of</em> <em>the</em> <em>shadow</em> <em>looming</em> <em>over</em> <em>him</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>He’d</em> <em>never</em> <em>forget</em> <em>it</em>, the facial <em>expression</em>. <em>How</em> <em>he’d</em> <em>looked</em> <em>at</em> <em>Rotorstorm</em>, <em>as</em> <em>if</em> <em>he</em> <em>was</em> <em>contemplating</em> <em>where</em> <em>to</em> <em>kick</em> <em>to</em> <em>inflict</em> <em>the</em> <em>most</em> <em>pain</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>He</em> <em>should’ve</em>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“-tabilised at least.”</p>
<p>“-ainstorm did a decent job. I’ll give him that.”</p>
<p>The muffled sounds of conversation that gradually became clearer pulled him out of his recharge. Vague shapes soon focused, becoming the interior of the med-bay. Ratchet was standing by the entrance talking to First Aid before the latter walked out.</p>
<p>He blinked, taking a few moments to figure out why he was here.</p>
<p>Things seemed... awfully foggy, and he had a nasty feeling in his tanks that he suspected was more than nerves.</p>
<p>Right.</p>
<p>He was dead.</p>
<p>Well, with emphasis on was. Now he wasn’t.</p>
<p>It was... confusing, disconcerting, extremely jarring. He felt... off. As in, more off than he usually did, and that said a lot.</p>
<p>And yet, here he was. Alive. Or, he thought so at least. He wasn’t sure if he felt quite like that. It seemed impossible. Last time he checked, his head had-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He realized, to his horror, that the walls of the med bay slowly appeared to cave in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No no no no-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had to get out of here. He had to-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He managed to sit up from the half-lying position he’d been in. The sudden movement made his head spin and he froze, waiting for the wave of nausea to pass.</p>
<p>“I suggest you don’t do that.” Ratchet’s voice pierced the haze as said medic walked over to him. He was holding something. Rotorstorm couldn’t make out what as his vision blurred.</p>
<p>“Sorry, I-“</p>
<p>Was all Rotorstorm could say before the nasty feeling in his tanks took over and he promptly started hurling.</p>
<p>“Primus dang it.” Ratchet grumbled. He held the object that Rotorstorm now realized was a small container below him is face as the contents of his tanks were now in said container. Rotorstorm made a face as he realized.</p>
<p>“Warned you. Sort of” Ratchet said as he walked off with the container to dispose of it.</p>
<p>“This is great. Absolutely fantastic. Dare I say terrific even?” Rotorstorm groaned, giving up on trying to move from the berth. “Just throw me out the airlock and get it over with already.”</p>
<p>“Unfortunately, that’s not an option.” Ratchet returned again. “The Lost Light’s been stranded on this planet for a couple a’ days now, and it doesn’t appear like it’ll change anytime soon.” He frowned.</p>
<p>The Lost Light. Right, that’s what it was called. The ship. Rotorstorm felt a wave of sheepishness from forgetting the name.</p>
<p>“So... we’re stuck here?” Rotorstorm sighed. He looked at Ratchet, the medic seemed entirely unaffected. The situation couldn’t be that bad in that case, could it? Get a grip, god dang it.</p>
<p>“I’d say so, at least until the engine’s repaired.” Ratchet shrugged, checking on another comatose patient in the corner. There was a pause as the doctor studied the poor bot’s vital signs. “Before you ask, no, I don’t know how long that’ll take. You’ll have to ask Perceptor about that.”</p>
<p>“Perceptor?” Rotorstorm tilted his head. Wait, the Perceptor? Him??</p>
<p>“Yeah, he’s an autobot scient-“ Ratchet began.</p>
<p>“I know who he is!” Rotorstorm exclaimed. “I just didn’t expect him of all bots to be here.”</p>
<p>“Well, you’d be surprised.” Ratchet grumbled. “I assume First Aid told you all about this so called ‘quest to find the knights of Cybertron’?” The medic spoke with a certain tone of exasperation.</p>
<p>“He also told me Megatron was aboard.” Rotorstorm deadpanned. The memory of First Aid’s weirdly upbeat tone when he told him was mildly unsettling.</p>
<p>“You’ve got a lot to catch up on, kid” Ratchet sighed.</p>
<p>“Yeah I figured.” Rotorstorm felt.. weirdly empty. No, not because of that. This felt... odd.</p>
<p>He wasn’t really sure why at this point. Maybe he was tired?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then again, it was certainly a welcome break from the usual maelstrom of emotions that was Rotorstorm. Sometimes he felt like that was all he was. A bunch of conflicting emotions, shoved into a walking approximation of a bot. An unremarkable one at that. He was pretty sure-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, don’t space out on me here, I need to run a couple of tests.” Ratchet’s gruff voice almost made him jump. “How do you feel right now? Yes, both physically and emotionally” The doctor began, noting down some things on a notepad.</p>
<p>“Me? Great. Never been better. Could probably fight Unicron if needed.” Rotorstorm used his most sarcastic tone to answer.“Ow!” Ratchet had zinged one of his fins with a small laser. It wasn’t enough to do actual damage but it was still annoying.</p>
<p>“I see there’s nothing wrong with your sense of sarcasm” Said medic deadpanned. “Go on, I have all day.”.</p>
<p>Rotorstorm sighed. “Well, my head kinda hurts. Do I have to elaborate?”</p>
<p>There was a brief silence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A small pang of unease bubbled it’s way into the rotary’s tanks. He had to use more willpower than he’d have liked to not say something, anything to fill the weird void that was the absence of words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ratchet shook his head. “Listen, I’m not going to pretend like I understand what you just went through, but I imagine it wasn’t easy.” He continued. Rotorstorm just blinked. “Therefore, I’m directing you to Rung. I gather you’ve met him before once?”</p>
<p>Rung? The name didn’t ring any bells right away. Still, Ratchet sounded very matter-of-factly and Rotorstorm wasn’t about to seem clueless.</p>
<p>“...yeah, I think so.” He finally said with as much confidence as he could muster. Primus dang it, that sounded way too hesitant still.</p>
<p>“He’s a psychiatrist, a profession we could use more off on this ship”. Ratchet explained, the last past was added with a quieter tone. “Either way, you are to talk to him once a week after I deem you healed enough to walk out of the med bay.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Great. Absolutely stellar. Then what? Did they seriously expect him to prattle on about his own stupid life’s story like that?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Like hell he was going to.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Here he was, Rotorstorm the absolute failure. He couldn’t even stay dead in the first place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have to go and check on another patient. Speak up if you have a question or if you’re dying.” Ratchet turned around and walked out of this side of the med-bay, leaving Rotorstorm there to process this. Said mech remained silent, something he found himself doing more often than not lately.</p>
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